Read Online Hellbound: The Tally Man by David McCaffrey - Free Book Online

scent and ambivalent action. A lion studying cattle in the prairie lands.
    He began traveling slowly towards the throng of activity, moving past the shop front displays. Catching sight of a figure mirroring his steps, he leaned into the plate glass. Obadiah saw the white shirt and blue pyjama trousers, hair cut close to his scalp and a face clean-shaven. His eyes reflected the light from behind him, appearing colourless in the sheen of the glass.
    Purveyors of the soul that told everything about a man.
    In this case, they told of a man very much alive.
    Turning away from the window, Obadiah tried to gather his thoughts as he moved on past cafes and sandwich bars. The smell of coffee and croissants assaulted his senses to the point of being overwhelming. He heard a train in the distance, rattling across tracks and ahead of him saw a Market place where people milled about in front of bookstalls and fruit and vegetable stands. Towards the horizon, a church spire pointed heavenward.
    Making his way towards the centre of the town, Obadiah positioned himself on a bench whilst continuing to gaze at the golden glint of the streets and shops in the morning sun. All around him buzzed with life and shone with promise. It was the opposite of his habitat in Absolom for almost a decade and a complete contrast to all he had ever known.
    Yet he was still trying to shake the sensation that the location was familiar. The house. The town. It was almost as if someone had taken a description from his memory and interpreted it as best they could, but in the process had lost something. For all intense purposes, it all looked remarkably similar to Killarney in Kerry, where he had grown up. Somewhere he had tried very hard to forget. But if that was the case, how did he get here? Okay. What the fuck is going on?
    An attractive, red-haired woman passed by in front of him, distracting him from his thoughts. Her slim, toned legs and shapely hips were accentuated by the tight fit Levis she wore. He found himself aroused at the sight of her, despite his current predicament. Then again, he hadn’t seen a woman in years, so maybe it wasn’t that strange. But despite her physical appearance, all he saw was meat. Someone plainly waiting to be a victim.
    She glanced at him, obviously embarrassed by his appearance and the attention he was giving her. Reactions such as those, and the growing whispers and stares he was accumulating, forced Obadiah to realise he was unsettling the people around him. In pyjama trousers, a shirt and no shoes, he looked every inch the unfortunate. If he was to go any further without drawing attention, he would need some clothes.
    As he sat contemplating how he would obtain some, he heard someone call his name. Looking around, he noticed a man approaching him, tall and thin with an unusually chubby face and a confused expression. His hands were gesticulating wildly at the surrounding environment as though he couldn’t believe Obadiah was sat there.
    “Obadiah? Jesus, man. What’s the craic? Why are you sat in your fuckin’ PJ’s?”
    He sounded genuinely concerned, his manner free as though addressing a close friend.
    Obadiah stared at the man with a dark expression, his right hand blocking out the now high sun’s glare. He didn’t like his casual tone. Nor did he look remotely familiar. His accent however established that he was indeed in Ireland.
    Obadiah studied him as people continued to pass by, muttering under their breath and adhering to the sociological theory of defusing responsibility.
    “Do you think he’s sick…”
    “…poor man. He must be homeless…”
    “…if his family know? I know his wife…go over? No way. What happens if he’s drunk.”
    The stranger moved around to face Obadiah. “You must be freezing? Does Eva know you’re here?” He moved to sit beside Obadiah before noticing the look in his eyes. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, he decided to remain standing, shifting awkwardly from foot to